


Here's To Us

by Nona__AM



Series: OQAngstFest [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: #OQAngstFest, F/M, Not sure this one is considered angsty tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nona__AM/pseuds/Nona__AM
Summary: Written for OQAngstFestDay three, Sunday.Prompt(s) used: (5, 25, 44, 50)





	Here's To Us

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly stole a certain idea from SORTEDfood on YouTube. Also, I'm not so sure this fic is considered angsty but...don't y'all want a lil break from all the torture and deaths? 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, by the way.

* * *

His girlfriend had one rule. Do not trash the house. And what did Robin Locksley do? Trash the house. 

It just…happened.

He fully intended on keeping his promise to Regina and make sure everything would remain nice and tidy while she was away for the night, celebrating one of her close friends’ birthday. He invited over some friend, and they were going to order in some food and play some cards—how bad could that be?

Well, extremely bad when alcohol is included.

A few beers turned into something stronger, no thanks to his friend, Killian Jones, and before they knew, they emptied the bottle of whiskey.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there.

Terrible ideas ensued.

“So, what are we doing again?” Killian slurred, glaring down at the device secured tightly around his wrist, giving it a curious tap.

“I’m going to propose to Regina tomorrow,” Robin explained, “and I’m going to need to do it with cake. She loves cake.”

“I’m not sure handling an oven in the state we’re in is a great idea…” David chimed in, equally as wasted as the others but still the sane one among them. “Not to mention, we’ve got these _things_ on us.” He huffed, waving toward the identical device wrapped around his and Robin’s wrist, too.

“We’re making the cake,” Robin affirmed, then turned, pointing his index at their fourth friend, Graham. “And we’re going to have fun while we’re at it. So, go on, explain the rules again. I wasn’t exactly listening the first time.”

“Right.” Graham grinned, lowering himself on one of the stools on the other side of the kitchen island. “You asked for a challenge, so what you three are going to be doing is making a cake from scratch, without a recipe.”

“Do I look like the bloody Cake Boss?” Killian grumbled.

“And if you make a mistake, I’ll shock you,” Graham continued, reminding them of the electrical wristbands they wore.

“Jesus Christ,” Killian breathed out.

“And where’s the fun bit in all this exactly?” David asked, brows raising to his hairline.

“It’ll be fun to me,” Graham said. “Now, you already had the chance to read the recipe, it’s time to get baking.”

But, five minutes in and they were already screaming in agony more than they were actually doing any sort of baking.

“God-fucking-dammit, Graham!” Robin hissed, shooting David and Killian a glare as they both howled with laughter beside him. “What was that for?”

“You were going to crack the egg in the dry ingredients’ bowl. You aren’t supposed to do that,” Graham explained.

“Okay, I see the fun in all this now,” David commented, still breathless from all the chortling.

“You should add it all to the wet ingredients, mate,” Killian offered.

“Since when did you become an expert?” Robin shot back before doing just that. Cracking two eggs into the bowl that contained the wet ingredients. Okay, alright. No electric shocks. He’d done _that_ right at least. “Now we’re…now we’re—what are we supposed to do?” he muttered, just loud enough for Killian and David to hear. Graham does and they’ll be shocked again. The sadistic bastard was having way too much fun with that.

“Mix in all of that together and then toss in this,” Killian said, holding up the cup of flour.

And that wasn’t it.

Graham shocked him and he screamed, accidentally throwing the flour all over Robin.

“Shit.” Killian clasped a hand over his mouth but not even that stopped him from laughing. “Mate, I’m so sorry—“

“Save it,” Robin gritted out, dusting some of the flour off his face. “It was supposed to go into the dry ingredients’ bowl, mixed in with all other dry ingredients, Killian. Not my face.”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Killian tittered, scooping another cup of flour and, this time, actually adding it into the bowl.

The rest of the process went on with a few more electric shocks. They weren’t mixing the batter well. They forgot to fold in the coffee at the end and had to scrape the batter out of the pans and into the bowl again. At the end, though, two pans went into the oven. Success…maybe.

“Frosting?” David asked, leaning tiredly against the kitchen island, resting his elbows over the countertop.

“Chocolate. Dark chocolate,” Robin replied. “I think we’ve got a few bars in the fridge.”

“And the recipe?” Killian looked over at Graham, who shook his head, going through Regina’s personal cookbook.

“I haven’t found one—oh! There it is. Chocolate frosting. It seems easy enough.” Graham slid the book in front of them.

“Beat butter until fluffy, mix the icing sugar and chocolate then milk if needed,” Robin muttered as he skimmed through the recipe. Pursing his lips, he shrugged. “Sounds easy enough.”

And it should’ve been. It _would’ve_ been easy if they weren’t drunk. But they were, and the kitchen ended up in a complete disaster.

Robin should’ve know better than to put the mixer on high after adding the icing sugar. Powder was light, beating it on high will send it flying everywhere. Logic, really. And that’s exactly what happened. It didn’t end with that, though. Oh no.

While adding the spoonfuls of milk to ensure the mixture was smooth and spreadable, Robin dropped the plastic tablespoon right into the stand mixer. Had it been turned off while that happened, it would’ve been as easy as plucking it out of the frosting. But it wasn’t, and with it being on high, it broke the spoon.

“You can’t use this now,” Graham said apologetically. “There could be bits and pieces of small plastic mixed in with it. It’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Robin mumbled, glowering down at the frosting. It looked incredible, it smelled wonderful and it tasted so good. He was so proud of it. And now it would go straight into the trash. “We haven’t got more chocolate. We’ve used all of it, and the icing sugar.”

“It’s fine.” Graham poked at the notebook. “There’s another frosting recipe.”

“Italian Meringue Buttercream?” Killian raised a brow. “The hell is that?”

“Buttercream, dimwit.” Robin rolled his eyes. “We’ll do it.”

“You sure? It’s a pretty hard one,” Graham warned.

“It’s buttercream, Graham, how hard can it be?” Robin scoffed.

As it turned out, really, really hard.

Even with a candy thermometer in hand, David still managed to ruin the sugar syrup twice, boiling it way above the needed temperature and burning it.

The third time, just when it seemed like they’ve got the hang of it all, Killian dumped the sugar syrup into the egg whites instead of gradually pouring it, and scrambled them.

Great. Just great. Six eggs gone to waste.

They cracked six more and began the whole process all over again.

“Slowly,” Graham reminded just as David handed Killian the pot. “And be careful not to burn yourself.”

Two hours later, they came up with something…half decent.

Kudos to them for trying when a couple of them couldn’t even stand without swaying.

It wasn’t a bad cake. Not at all. It broke apart slightly in various places while decorating but it stayed together. It didn’t fall apart and that’s all that mattered.

Needless to say, Robin was proud of the outcome, and proud of his friends.

“Now, can you get this off me?” he grumbled, holding his wrist toward Graham.

“Me, too,” Killian joined in.

“Same,” David followed. “And hurry up, I really need to pee.”

* * *

Regina didn’t worry.

She was dating a mature, responsible man who never gave her a reason to for the past two and a half years they’ve lived together for. So she didn’t call. Didn’t check and ask if everything was alright.

And God, she really, really should’ve.

The house was destroyed. Everything was out of place and upside down, as if a tornado had just gone through it. But the living room was nothing compared to how the kitchen was.

Regina gasped at what she saw. Chocolate smeared all across the ground, sugar and flour over the countertops, a mountain of pots and bowls piled up in the sink, dozens and dozens of egg shells crushed around—what in God’s name happened here?

“Robin,” she hissed, a glare fixed over her face as she approached his sleeping form, snoring away on the couch. “Get up.” She roughly smacked his arm, waking him with a start.

“You’re home.”

“Home? This doesn’t look at all like home, Robin!”

His smile fell and he pouted at her, his eyes fighting to stay open. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who went to the bar and you’re drunk.” She scoffed, folding her arms in front of her.

“Killian’s fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is—are you even listening to me?” She huffed, smacking his arm again to wake him up.

“I’m tired, baby. Can’t we talk about whatever you’re angry at tomorrow?”

Oh, there would be more than just talking. She was going to make him scrub everything from top to bottom, make sure the entire house was spotless.

“Get up.”

“Don’t throw me out.”

She tried to stay mad. She really did. But his pitiful whine made her chuckle. “I’m not kicking you out, I’m taking you to bed. The couch isn’t comfortable. You know you keep getting backaches whenever you fall asleep on the couch.”

“Right.” He sighed, pushing himself up on his feet.

Regina helped him up the stairs and into their bedroom, supporting half his weight when he couldn’t support himself. Hopefully, the hangover would be bad enough to make him reconsider his actions and not repeat them. “There, lay down,” she instructed, lowering him down on the bed.

“Please don’t leave,” Robin whispered, his eyes a bit wider now, seeming a little more sober.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She chuckled, giving his lips a peck.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“So you still love me?” His pout returned.

“When I said I love you, I meant it, Robin.” She lowered herself beside him, her fingers working to unbutton his shirt and rid him of his filthy clothes. Seriously, though, what the hell was he and the boys doing? He was covered from head to toe in flour and chocolate. “But I’m still angry.”

“I know.”

“Midnight baking, really? Is that a new hobby of yours?”

Robin shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

She snorted. “Yeah? Well, I think you did a great job. Coming home to all that was quite the surprise.”

He was out like a light before she even removed his shirt, and it was for the best. Had he been awake, she wouldn’t have found the box he had tucked in his pants.

Small, black box with a beautiful ring inside it. Silver band with a solitaire diamond. And it fit her perfectly.

Was that the surprise he was talking about?

She wasn’t so fond of surprises, but something told her this particular one would be different. Life changing, quite literally.

“I can’t even stay mad at you.” Regina huffed through a laugh, returning the box to its original place, in the pocket of his pants. “So not fair.”

Maybe he’d get the kitchen next time—not that she ever hoped there would be a next time. One grand mess was more than enough to last a lifetime.

* * *

 


End file.
